Do You Remember?
by the prodigal chicken
Summary: It's good to remember the ripples.


Do You Remember?  
  
by the prodigal chicken  
  
Rating: I'm going with PG-13, but there are some adult themes, so it might be closer to PG-16. If you would be uncomfortable with an R rating, then don't read this. If you are comfortable with such a rating, please give me some feedback.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Adam Rove would be my boyfriend when he grows up.  
  
Author note: this is my first fanfic, so be gentle. I am sending this in unbeta'd, so it may eventually go through some revisions.  
  
After.  
  
Soft, lazy kisses. His lips graze her collarbone. Her neck. Her cheek. Her forehead.   
  
She can't help laughing when his mouth finds the underside of her ear. It tickles. And he knows it.  
  
"Do you remember the first time I held your hand?" Adam asks, his breath warm on her skin.  
  
"I remember. . .laughing with you while feathers rained from above," Joan whispers into the quiet of the room.   
  
----  
  
The exhibit was fun. Joan Girardi couldn't believe she was actually thinking that, but there it was. Science was fun. Whatever. Hanging out with Adam Rove again was fun. That was the real trick. Watching Adam smile and even laugh, that was fun. When she held her hand out, she was a little amazed that he grabbed it. He was holding her hand and he was her friend again, and suddenly the noise of all the chattering students faded away. Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that the noise of chatter was drowned out by the sound of a motor plowing through an aquarium. Luke and Grace and their haphazard experiment. And then there were feathers. Lots of feathers. Joan laughed as she watched them fall through the air and stick in Adam's hair, in her own hair. She looked at Adam and he was grinning, too. And then his hand was on her stomach, soft and warm. He leaned closer to her and she had one moment to think, "He's going to kiss me. . .and I'm going to let him." And then his lips were on her own. Did she know his lips would be so soft? For a long moment, thoughts were meaningless. Adam Rove was kissing her. Adam Rove whom she had had believed hated her, was kissing her. Adam Rove, who she understood even when she acted like she didn't, was kissing her. Her stomach did little flip flops as his mouth moved over hers. And then he was pulling away and it was over. But he was still looking at her, and his lips had tilted up into a smile. She couldn't help but smile back.   
  
"You have feathers in your hair, Jane," he mused quietly as he plucked one out.  
  
"Unchallenged," she whispered. They both grinned and Joan took his hand again, leading him away from the beautiful chaos.  
  
---  
  
His hand caresses her stomach gently, and he smiles against her mouth before he kisses her.  
  
"Your mom was there, remember?" he asks just before his lips meet hers.  
  
A long moment passes as he teases her with his mouth. When he pulls away, she is breathless.  
  
"Do you remember the first time you fell asleep in my arms?" she asks, tracing his face with her fingertips. His angles are not new to her, but beloved, still. Her hands wind into his hair, finding purchase there. She's always admired how soft his hair can be. She likes it long like this. He cut it once, but grew it out after she complained for a week that she couldn't do this--bury her hands in it, couldn't play with it while he was asleep.  
  
--  
  
"Joan, you said you needed time to think, time to figure out what you want. Well I know what I want, and I think you want that, too, but you have to tell me." Adam stood on the front porch, watching as a gambit of emotions ran across Joan's face. Confusion, shyness, fear. All found their way into her eyes. He hated that. Hated that she didn't know or was too afraid to know what to do.  
  
"Adam. . .you have to promise me, something," she said, her voice barely audible.  
  
"What, Joan?" he asked.  
  
"If this doesn't work, if--if we can't stay together or whatever, can you promise me that we won't lose each other? Can you promise me that?"  
  
Adam finally understood. He reached for her hand.  
  
"Jane, I can't make promises like that because I don't know." He frowned at her downturned mouth. "But I do know that I wouldn't willingly lose you. That I'd hang onto you and our friendship for dear life. Is that good enough?"  
  
Joan smiled. And he knew it was indeed good enough.  
  
"Do you want to come in or do you need to go home?" she asked, already reaching for his hand.  
  
"No, Dad thinks I'm at a concert, so he knows I'll be in late. I can come in."  
  
Inside, she stopped to tell her mother that they are going to watch some tv. Helen Girardi smiled at Joan and nodded.  
  
On the couch, Adam wrapped his arms around her as the remote stopped on the Game Show network. He didn't pay attention to the game, instead focusing on the sound of Joan's breathing, the smell of her hair, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled.   
  
"Charles Nelson Reilly is way funny, don't you think?" she asked, unaware that he was lost in her, not the show.  
  
"He wears those mad ascots sometimes," he whispered before kissing her earlobe. Joan looked at him and smiled happily. "Yeah, he does."  
  
The show went on and Adam found himself being lulled to sleep by the quiet comfort of the house and Joan's presence. His eyes drifted closed and he was blissfully unaware until he heard the sound of Will Girardi's voice.  
  
"Adam, wake up!" Will shouted from the doorway. Immediately Adam bolted upright. How had his head ended up in Joan's lap, anyway? He felt the momentary sensation of her fingers in his hair before he managed to completely sit up. He glanced over at her and she smiled at him sweetly.  
  
"Chief Girardi, hey," he said, unable to think of anything else. Was he in trouble? Did the chief think he had defiled Jane? These thoughts stumbled through his head until he heard Will's next words.  
  
"We called your father to let him know where you were. He wants you to go ahead and get home. Do you need a ride?" Will was looking at him strangely, like he'd never seen this boy before. Well, in a way, he hadn't. Adam had changed since their first meeting. He felt less weighed down by the world these days.   
  
"That's okay, Chief," he said, standing up, "I don't mind walking. It's not far." Will nodded and left.  
  
"I'll walk you to the door," Joan said, rising.  
  
When the got to the front door, Joan suddenly stopped him. She turned him around and then her lips were on his. He felt her mouth open slightly and he did the same. She tasted of peppermint and he had a moment to hope that his breath was okay before she broke away, smiling at him. "See you tomorrow," she said.   
  
He smiled back. "Yeah, tomorrow." And then was out the door, on his way home, and feeling very happy.  
  
---  
  
He looks at her for a moment, his earthbound angel. Smiles at her. She makes him smile.  
  
"March 14, 2004. Your living room. We were watching a Match Game rerun because you thought Charles Nelson Reilly was mad funny." He grins at this, remembering how he had lain his head in her lap. How she'd stroked his hair until he fell asleep. How Will Girardi's bellowing voice had awoken him from a very pleasant dream.   
  
"Thought your dad was going to kill me for a second until I realized he was just telling me that my father wanted me home."   
  
"I thought Dad was going to kill you, too. He thought you were a space boy for awhile, you know?" Joan props herself up on her elbow and looks down at him. This boy, no, no. . .this man who had captured her heart with his unorthodox views on life, language, love was now her most trusted confidant. More than that, though. Always more than that.  
  
"Do you remember the first time we did this?" Adam gazed up at her, his eyes feeling heavier with each breath he took.   
  
---  
  
Adam tugged at the black bow tie for the ten millionth time. He couldn't believe he had went to the prom. How did this happen, he wondered. Joan, that's how. She'd said it was something they would never be able to experience again. And for that, he was glad. But Joan was happy. She'd had fun, and that in itself was enough to make the whole thing worth it. She stood beside of him in his room as he removed the tie from his collar. Better.  
  
"I can swallow again," he joked.   
  
"Thank you for doing this for me," Joan said after she kissed his cheek.  
  
"No problem, Jane," he assured her, admiring her deep blue dress again. She was so beautiful to him. And he knew that others had stared at him, thinking he was lucky, and he felt that. Very lucky.  
  
"Wanna watch Game Show Network?" he asked with a grin on his face.  
  
"Yeah," she replied, grinning right back. Their decision to not go all the way just yet was becoming harder and harder. . .so to speak. But they were going to wait as long as they could. Anticipation was great thing, Adam thought momentarily, before guiding Joan to the bathroom so she could change out of her dress. Minutes later, they were curled up in front of the living room tv, watching Richard Dawson kissing an old woman and making her blush. Joan looked up at Adam and he couldn't resist bringing his lips to hers.  
  
"I'm glad you're here," he whispered after the kiss ended.  
  
"Me too," she whispered back, stroking his hair. She was glad they had waited.  
  
Two days later, and they found themselves throwing their waiting period out the window. Adam wasn't sure what happened, really. One minute they were in her room studying for a Physics test. The next, they were on her bed, fumbling with clothing.   
  
"Quiet," Joan whispered, "we have to be quiet."  
  
"I can do quiet," Adam said softly. His hands were trying to do too many things at once and getting nothing done at all.  
  
"Let me, okay?" Joan finally said.  
  
"Yeah, okay," he agreed. And then it was happening, and he wasn't completely sure what to do, and neither was she. They laughed at the sweet awkwardness of it all for a moment, getting everything put on and lined up and finding the right places. Gasps, frantic movements, her nails scratching his back. It was over quickly, but it was something neither would ever forget. Later, he couldn't stop grinning at her in the kitchen as they fixed sandwiches. And try as she might, she couldn't stop, either.   
  
"Jane. . ." he started, but didn't know what to say, suddenly shy.  
  
"I know," she said, grasping his hand.   
  
And it was good.  
  
---  
  
Joan laughs. "I think I vaguely recall the first time we did this. Two days after Senior Prom. We didn't want to go the stereotypical "after prom" way, so we waited. We waited a whole two days." Joan lays her head back down, this time on his chest. His heart beat is a steady thrumming in her head. She kisses a spot over his heart gently.  
  
"I was so scared, Joan," he starts, tiredly, "I had no idea what I was doing, what we were doing. I thought maybe you wanted to wait, but then you didn't and neither did I. We were so young."  
  
"Do you remember what I said to you after?" Joan wonders.  
  
"You said, 'Let's never give up. I never want to give you up, yo."   
  
Joan laughs, but doesn't move from her spot on his chest.  
  
"I did say 'yo', didn't I?"  
  
"Unchallenged," Adam replies before yawning.  
  
"Do you remember when I told you I loved you?" she asks, her own eyelids, slowly drifting close.  
  
"Same day I told you--March 8, 2005. That was a good day."  
  
--  
  
He watched her from his bedroom window walking her way to his front door. Smiling, he bounded down to meet her.   
  
"Hey, you're here," he said, opening the door for her.  
  
"I am." Her eyes were bright, and she was grinning.  
  
A few minutes later and they were sitting in the floor working a puzzle. He'd found it in a box of his mother's things. The box showed a yellow boat on green water. He'd cried when he'd first seen it. And then he'd called Joan over. And she cried with him.  
  
They worked the puzzle, still hundreds of pieces to go. In the middle of trying to cram one edge into a spot where it couldn't possibly fit, Joan's hand was stopped by Adam's.  
  
"I don't think that fits, Jane," he said. He was smiling as he grasped her hand. "Some things fit, and some don't."  
  
"I love you," she said suddenly. Her mouth dropped open as if she couldn't believe she'd blurted those words out.  
  
Adam grasped her hand a little harder, his smiling face turning to one that showed surprise. She loved him. He knew that. But she'd never told him. And he'd never told her.   
  
"I love you, too, Joan," he said, and released her hand. But then she was grabbing his, pulling him to his feet. His arms went around her automatically as she buried her face in his chest.  
  
"I think we're forever, Adam," she mumbled into his shirt. He tightened his arms around her, then.  
  
"Told you I'd hang onto you for dear life," he said and kissed her hair.  
  
"Always hang onto me, Adam, and I'll hang onto you. We won't let each other fall down."  
  
"It's a deal," he whispered. He stared down at the puzzle. The boat wasn't complete yet, but he could see parts of it. It was coming together. All the pieces were starting to fit. Everything was going to fit.  
  
---  
  
"We've had a lot of good days," she answers, "a lot of good ripples."  
  
"I remember all of our ripples, Jane," he mumbles, sleep finally overtaking him.  
  
Joan Girardi Rove raises her head and watches as her husband drifts off to sleep. 


End file.
